Sticks & Stones Page #5

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swiped your glove in the

middle of the night.

Ooh, he's going down.

- Come on, we're gonna be late.

- Hey, listen up.

I wanna welcome all of

you to tryouts today.

I wanna wish each and every

one of you the best of luck.

So what do you say?

Let's play some ball!

- Now remember, hips out

in front of your shoulder.

Feel that weight transfer.

Feel the weight transfer.

- Shut up, already.

I think he's got it.

You sound like a broken record.

- Damn!

- We're screwed.

- Maybe next year.

- Forget that, man.

I got it.

- No way, Mouth.

If he catches you,

he'll kill you.

He'll never touch me.

He hasn't yet.

- Yet. Don't be a hero.

It's not worth it.

- It most definitely is,

and we all know it.

- Don't, Mouth.

- Hey, a**hole.

Where you been?

That's right, Hayes,

I'm talking to you.

Man!

- He's crazy.

- Yeah, but he's right.

Hold on.

But don't turn around.

Cy Young, they're calling

for you from the dugout.

- You animal!

- A good dog deserves his bone.

- Come on, boy.

Come on, boy.

Come on.

- Well, remember, hips out...

- In front of the shoulders.

- No cherries, no hooks.

- Just gas.

- Make us proud, Cy.

- I'll try to.

- Hey, good luck.

- Hey.

- Wow, lookie lookie.

- Girls try out

tomorrow, though.

- Cockroach, what the

hell are you doing here?

- Tryin' out.

Where's the signup sheet?

- Go home, Joey.

Don't embarrass me.

Home!

I'm not kidding.

Is something wrong

with your ears?

I said, "Go the hell home!"

- Oh, man!

Did you see that?

- What's going on over there?

- Hey, Finley.

- Coach.

- What's going on?

- Nothing, coach.

Just my little brother here.

He was on his way home.

Weren't you?

- No, I wasn't.

I'm here to try out.

- What position?

If you don't mind me asking.

- Pitcher.

- Hey, hey.

- Look, son, I know

you wanna play ball.

Heck, I did when I was your age.

But I don't think this is

the time or the place.

These guys are

bigger than you are.

They're stronger than you.

They play harder.

They hit harder.

They could slap a line

drive right through you.

It's not like playing

with your buddies.

I'm real sorry.

Maybe next year, all right.

I'll be looking

forward to it, kid.

Let's play ball.

- Yeah.

- Face it, bro.

Once a cockroach,

always a cockroach.

Now go home.

Take your stinkin' glove.

- Here's your glove.

Take it.

- Yee-haw!

Bye-bye!

Thanks for the workout.

Ahh!

(grunts

- I'm sorry, Joey.

I swear.

- I should never

listen to you jerks.

- How are we supposed to know?

- You're supposed

to listen to me.

You're supposed to clean

all the crap and gunk

out of your ears and listen.

- Okay, you're right.

We should've.

You still woulda

kicked their b...

- Book!

Give it a rest.

It's over.

- You woulda.

- Book!

You heard what the coach said.

Go home!

Just beat it.

Get lost.

- Isn't that Mouth's bike?

- Mouth?

Aw, man.

Hey!

- What do you faggots want?

- You.

- My pleasure.

- Drop it!

All right.

Cuff him to the post.

- You're not cuffing

me into a post.

- We're not?

- Not a chance.

- Cuff him.

- Don't touch me.

Especially you, Piggy.

Compliments of the chef.

- Give me that.

Back up.

- No, Piggy.

- Back up.

- No, Piggy.

- Back up!

- No, Piggy!

- Back up!

Back up!

Back up!

Back up!

Back up!

Why us?

Why?

Why, why, why?

Just because someone half your

size calls you an a**hole

from two blocks away

that means to terrorize him?

Who gave you the right

to call me "Piggy?"

Huh?

Who gave you the right to

drag me out of a shower

and throw me into a

hallway full of kids?

Huh?

And who

gave you the right

to touch anyone?

Who?

God dammit, who?

- He's crying now.

How does that feel?

Does it feel good?

Does it feel anything?

Anything at all?

You don't feel...

a damn thing, do you?

Do you?

How's that feel?

And that?

And that?

And that?

What in the world can

you possibly feel, huh?

Your fist smashing

into somebody's face?

Your boot pounding

into someone's ribs?

Do you have any idea...

what it's like on the

other side of the boot?

On the other side of the fist?

Do you?

- Yes.

Yes.

- Yes, my ass.

- Where do you think I

got the black eye, huh?

Where do you think I got it?

Where do you think I

got the cracked ribs

and the bruises

and the broken wrist

and the half-dozen concussions?

From Fairy Godmother?

The Fairy Goddamn Godmother?

No, man.

I got it from my dad.

My very own dad.

Some for my birthday.

Some for Christmas.

Some for just being there.

My dad.

My hero.

- So he beats you

when you beat us.

That's sweet.

Boo hoo.

- Back off, Joey.

Back off.

We made our point.

He needs help.

- So let's give it to him

- You don't get it, do you?

- No, you don't get it.

You don't remember how frightened

and pathetic you were,

curled up half-naked with

your runny nose mushed up

against the door,

crying like it was the

end of the world.

How easily you forget the pain.

I don't forget the pain.

I don't forget your pain.

I don't forget Mouth's pain.

And I don't forget my pain.

I'm sick of it.

- Maybe it's your brother

you should be knocking off.

- Maybe you're right.

But Dale won't kill me.

Hayes might.

- Joey.

You can't.

This wasn't our plan.

It's murder.

- Correction.

It's self-defense.

- We can't.

- Let go, Book.

- We can't.

- Let go, Book.

- We can't.

- Let go, Book!

- We can't!

- What the hell's the

matter with you?

- Hey, stop it guys.

Cool it, man.

Cool it! Stop!

What are you doing?

Stop!

Get off of him!

Stop it!

- Joey?

- A gunshot wound to

the right shoulder,

clipped the brachial artery.

BP is seven over forty.

He's at 130.

Respiration is 16,

and level of consciousness

is in and out.

- Jesus, Joey!

- Dr. Rosenthall,

call your office.

Dr. Rosenthall,

call your office.

Maintenance to third floor.

Maintenance to third floor.

- Reuben, Ryan.

- Geez, what happened to you?

- I'm Officer Thompson.

This is Officer Maldy.

We understand there's

been a shooting.

Tell us about it?

Is there some kind of

problem here, gentlemen?

- No.

Look, we were...

- Officer?

Who are you?

- Um, Billy Hayes, sir.

This has all been a big mix up.

You see, we were all at my house,

playing with my dad's gun,

when it went off,

accidentally.

We had no idea it was loaded.

It was just an

accident, officer.

Just messing around.

Just playing a game.

- You don't play with guns.

Do you understand that?

Do you?

- Yes, sir.

- Somebody coulda been

killed here today.

Do you guys get that

somebody could have died?

- You're just fine.

I'm gonna stay right

here with you, baby.

I'm not gonna go anywhere.

I'm gonna stay right here.

- I'm sorry.

- Honey, there's nothing

to be sorry about.

You didn't do anything wrong.

Where is my husband?

Have you seen my husband?

Have you seen Dr. Finley?

Daddy's gonna be here.

Daddy is the best.

Only the best for

my little baby.

- So, here we are

six months later

and hopefully many lifetimes'

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